What Judgments Come

“Damned right, I will,” the journalist said as he returned the carafe to its place on the bureau. “I mean, I’m still bloody well right-handed, you know.” Looking down at the replacement arm, most of which was concealed by the long sleeve of his hospital shirt, he held up the artificial hand, which to Reyes looked real enough. He noted that Pe

For some reason, Reyes found that fu

Shifting again in the bed, Pe

Reyes glanced over his shoulder to confirm that the security officers were not amused by the remark. “They do have phasers, Tim.”

“Yes, they do,” Pe

Nodding, Reyes replied, “That’s right. Starfleet’s finally figured out what they want to do with me.”

“Bastards,” Pe

“Nogura did everything he could,” Reyes replied, choosing his words with care. “I can’t say I disagree with Starfleet’s decision.”

It was not a lie so much as an artful navigation of the truth. Nogura had in fact been a staunch advocate for Reyes, convincing Starfleet Command to commute his sentence in recognition for the services he had provided while aboard the Omari-Ekon. However, the admiralty and JAG Headquarters had been unwilling to overturn Reyes’s court-martial conviction. In exchange for the leniency they had decided to show by not sending him to the New Zealand Penal Settlement, Reyes had agreed to go into permanent exile. His life would be comfortable and he would be able to enjoy his retirement at some quiet, undisclosed location where every effort would be made to ensure his new identity afforded him a degree of freedom and anonymity. There would be no official record of his final disposition, save for a classified file at Starfleet Headquarters. Like most of the documentation pertaining to Operation Vanguard, it would be buried under multiple levels of security and all but impossible to retrieve save for those few individuals who would possess the necessary authorization and “need to know.” So far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned, Diego Reyes would cease to exist.

I can live with that. After everything that had transpired since he was named Starbase 47’s first commanding officer, retreating to some u

For a moment, Reyes wondered if Pe

“He’s given me some time to wrap up a few loose ends,” Reyes replied. “Say my good-byes—that sort of thing.” Pausing, he considered the odd relationship he had shared with Pe

“I came to say two things. First, thank you, again, for the things you did that saved the lives of people under my command. You took a lot of risks when you didn’t have to, but those actions made all the difference when it came to those men and women. I’ll never forget that.”

Looking uncomfortable with the praise being heaped upon him, Pe

Reyes nodded. “Second, I’m pretty sure I never got around to saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things done to you early on. T’Pry

For his part, Pe

“Next time,” Reyes repeated, his voice low. Gripped with a sudden bout of self-consciousness, he tried to ignore the sensation that the patient ward had grown cooler in the last few minutes. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “I should probably get going.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Pe

Once more Reyes laughed. “I’ll do my best. Take care of yourself, Tim.”

“Same to you, Diego.”

It was harder to leave the ward than he had anticipated, but any anxiety Reyes might have felt started to fade the moment he and his security detail emerged into the corridor and found Ezekiel Fisher standing in the passageway as though waiting for him. In his right hand he held what looked to be a large glass bottle filled with a golden brown liquid, and wrapped with a label he was sure he recognized.

“Is that Kentucky bourbon?”

Holding up the bottle, Fisher replied, “You pla

“Not a chance in hell,” Reyes said.

After asking the pair of security guards to wait outside his office, which required convincing them that there were no secret exits from his cramped, disheveled workspace, Fisher directed Reyes to one of two chairs positioned around a small conference table in the room’s far corner. The doctor retrieved two glasses from a cabinet behind his chair and commenced dispensing generous portions of the bourbon into them.

“I suppose you can’t even tell me where you’re going,” Fisher said, taking a seat.

Before replying, Reyes sipped from his glass, relishing the smooth, warming sensation as the alcohol worked its way down his throat. “After drinking the watered-down bug spray that passed for booze on that ship, you have no idea how good this tastes.” He glanced over his shoulder to verify that the office doors were still closed before saying, “I’m not allowed to tell you or anyone else that I’m heading for Caldos II.”

Fisher grunted. “Never been there, but I hear it’s nice.”

The colony world was one of five destinations Nogura had suggested as ideal locations for Reyes to “fade away” in compliance with his agreement. Though the original settlement was well established and continuing to grow, the colonists there prided themselves on adhering to the tenets of individuality and personal privacy. It was not uncommon for families to set out on their own and build homes far away from the colony center, either deep in one of the world’s teeming forests or among the isolated mountain regions. “There’s plenty of planet for anybody looking for a nice place to retire,” Nogura had said. The offer was sweetened by the notion that in Reyes’s case, exile did not mean total isolation. He would be given a new identity, so that he could live among the other colonists and not attract undue attention.